


Waiting Up

by Moonfreckle (Sunfreckle)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Musichetta's POV, Only the most wholesome happy smut for j/b/m, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Moonfreckle
Summary: Joly makes a soft, pleasantly surprised sounds when Musichetta wraps a welcoming arm around him in the dark.“You’re awake,” he murmurs, sliding happily into her arms.“How was work, love?” she whispers fondly, her mouth right by his ear.





	Waiting Up

**Author's Note:**

> No kinks to tag I think, this is all pretty vanilla. There is teasing of course, hand stuff and oral stuff, and the first actual penetrative sex I've written in eons.
> 
> Anyway, JBM have the healthest of happy relationships and a sexlife to match~

 

It really is a little nonsensical, Musichetta thinks to herself. She had slept perfectly fine on her own in her own bed for years, decades even. But _this_ bed – this wonderful two metres wide monster of a bed with its frightfully expensive mattress and pile of pillows – _this_ bed is supposed to have three people in it. And when it doesn’t, Musichetta can’t quite fall asleep easily.

Beside her Bossuet lets out a sleepy breath and Musichetta smiles in the dark. Poor Bossuet had had a bit of a day. He’d been dead tired when he came home. Of course he had still worked up the energy to recount all his misadventures of the day during dinner. He usually does. Joly often jokes that Bossuet is their personal dinner entertainment.

Musichetta wonders what time it is, but she doesn’t want to crawl to the other side of the bed to find her phone. Poor Joly. The hours he has to make at the hospital are disgraceful. “They’re trying to kill us,” Joly often quips cheerfully. “If we survive this, we’re ready to battle the world’s diseases.”

Musichetta smiles again, just at the thought of him, and rolls onto her stomach. She should try to sleep. By now she really should know better than to wait up for him. She just can’t help it. Still, no matter how late he comes home, when she wakes up Joly will be there. Nestled in between her and Bossuet, or cuddled up against her right side, and all will be right with the world. She can be sure of that at least.

So Musichetta buries a little deeper under the covers, nuzzling her pillow until it is properly comfortable under her head. Bossuet is breathing steadily beside her and she lets the rhythm of his breathing carry her up and down. Normally she’d snuggle up against him a little more, but she doesn’t want to wake him and somehow Bossuet always seems to wake up to wrap an arm around her when she scoots towards him, without fail. She smiles another sleepy smile, now hidden partially in her pillow, and tries closing her eyes again.

Slowly, she relaxes her back, her arms tucked against her midriff as she lies on her stomach. The various little stresses and exertions that managed to stick to her during the day make themselves known as her body whines for attention in little familiar ways. Musichetta dispels them one by one, coaxing her body towards comfort until she’s properly molten into her pillow and mattress.

When she slips her hand between her legs and into her underwear, she isn’t moving very deliberately. Her limbs have already grown heavy and her touches are lazy and languid. All she wants is a little bedtime fantasy, something to give her mind fuzzy edges to slip easily into sleep with.

With her stomach pressed against the mattress and her arm trapped underneath her own weight, her movements are virtually unnoticeable. Musichetta turns her face a little more into the pillow and lets her mind drift. She’s used to dozing off before she’s even finished.

Musichetta is nearly asleep, her hand now tucked unmovingly between her thighs, when the click from the front door rouses her. Drowsy as she is, hear happiness shines straight through it.

Joly’s home.

The smile on Musichetta’s lips has very little to do with the slight buzz she’s given her body. Most of it is all Joly’s.

Happily she rolls onto her side, listening to the soft sounds of Joly making his way through the living room and bathroom and then towards the bedroom. He enters quietly and slips into the right side of the bed immediately. Clearly he already undressed in the bathroom, because he only pauses to put his glasses on the nightstand.

When Musichetta wraps a welcoming arm around him he makes a soft, pleasantly surprised noise.

“You’re awake,” he murmurs, sliding happily into her arms.

“How was work, love?” she whispers fondly, her mouth right by his ear.

“Mmm, tiring,” he sighs and he puts a hand on her waist, nudging his face against hers in the dark until he’s found her lips.

The kiss he presses against them is not as tired as Musichetta had expected. It’s a little too inviting actually.

Joly is nothing if not intuitive and he deepens the kiss as soon as she parts her lips. Behind the mint of his toothpaste he tastes like coffee and something sweet that probably had a lot of fat and sugar in it. Inwardly Musichetta scowls at the medical world in general, but it feels like Joly is kissing all the fatigue and frustration of his day away and Musichetta forgets to be indignant. She slides a hand into his recently cropped hair and he kisses her even more enthusiastically. They’re both very quiet, but so is the dark bedroom around them. The sudden irregularity in her own breathing seems almost deafening to Musichetta. They should really sleep… Joly’s been up since six this morning and— Joly’s arm wraps around her waist and Musichetta’s hips roll against his on their own accord. Joly presses back against her immediately and okay, clearly _he_ hasn’t got sleeping on his mind.

He pulls away from the kiss to nuzzle her neck and Musichetta takes a few quiet breaths before whispering: “We should sleep…”

“Hm,” Joly hums and he kisses her again.

She kisses back, because the buzz that never quite went away is rolling warm and inviting through her body now and…

Joly is never pushy, far from it, but he’s _very_ good at feeling the difference between genuine and reluctant hesitation and he can be _very_ persuasive.

He also knows all her weak spots. His fingers are sliding featherlight down her back under her camisole and Musichetta squirms. Joly’s hand reaches her thigh and she rolls her hips again. Dammit. In a moment of pure weakness she presses her lips against his again and she can feel that he’s grinning. Joly leans into her until she’s lying on her back and one of his hands slides under the soft fabric covering her stomach to trace the curve of her breasts.

Musichetta turns her head to the side, breaking out of the kiss with as little gasping as possible and breathes, albeit extremely reluctantly:

“Joly, no. We’ll wake Boss.”

Joly’s hand stills, just as reluctantly, but there’s hardly a beat of silence before Bossuet’s drowsy, smiling voice comes from the dark:

“Mmm, no you won’t…”

Joly makes a delightful noise and his next kiss is a lot less quiet. Musichetta listens to Bossuet’s sleepy chuckle to her left, wonders desperately what it is about groping hands in the dark that is so stupidly irresistible and gives in. She drags Joly closer by his slender hips and he hums happily into the kiss. He grinds against her deliberately and Musichetta spreads her legs, both because that means more friction and because it means she can wrap them around Joly’s.

She rocks her hips up against his, rubbing cotton against cotton and Joly’s mouth leaves hers.

“I can do better than that,” he breathes wetly against her neck and he pulls free from the tangle of her arms and legs so he can slide a hand in between the both of them. His fingertips ghost over her underwear and Musichetta sighs, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. Joly is kissing down her neck now, fingers feeling her carefully through the soft cotton and normally Musichetta _loves_ his slow build-ups. Joly is the living embodiment of attentive and being spoiled by him is an _indulgent_ experience. But right now, with enticing shards of her own imagination still floating around in the dark and her body already humming with pleasure and hunger for more—

Musichetta slants her head, pressing her lips against Joly’s in a distracting kiss and slips her hand into his boxers. Joly shudders under her touch, but instead of letting her tease him he grabs her hand and pulls it aside again, pinning it against the mattress. Even worse, the hand that was playing so sweetly between her thighs is trying to catch her other wrist, in case she tries again.

“Joly…” Musichetta protests, squirming slightly underneath him.

Joly laughs, near soundlessly, and lets go of her wrists. “Don’t pout,” he whispers and he presses a grinning kiss on her mouth. Instead of kissing her properly, he leaves her open-mouthed and wanting and this time Musichetta makes a properly disgruntled sound. Joly is sliding further down her body, out of reach.

“ _Joly_ ,” Musichetta moans a little louder, trying to pull him back up, but instead he lets out a low chuckle and whispers teasingly:

“Shh, you’ll wake Boss, remember?”

“Hmm,” Bossuet mumbles close beside them. “Don’t worry, I’m still _fast_ asleep. Having wonderful dreams too…”

Musichetta’s grimace goes unseen I the dark. “You’re both terrible,” she breathes. “Abse-” She swallows her words in a muffled moan when Joly suddenly nuzzles her stomach and presses a kiss against the inner curve of her hip. Her hips tilt up eagerly without any interference of her consciousness and Joly hums delightedly against her skin. His hands are sliding up her thighs already and he’s definitely moving faster than he usually does. Musichetta would praise him for his insight into her eagerness, but she’s too busy biting her lip to keep quiet. Joly is toying with the soft edges of her underwear and she suddenly wonders if he can tell she’s been playing with herself. The fact that that thought makes a giddy swirl coil in her stomach even as Joly is settling firmer between her legs is so silly that she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Hm?” Joly hums amusedly, pressing kisses lower and lower and dragging her underwear down little by little as he does so.

Luckily he takes her murmured moan as enough of an answer, because Musichetta can’t manage much more while he’s rubbing her through her underwear like that. She’s nearly squirming again and her hips move up again. This time there’s a soft whine at the back of her throat and Joly makes a low noise in response that sends a thrill up her spine. He tugs down her underwear, making use of her lifted hips and moving hastily out from between her legs to get rid of her panties. He’s back in his former position and pushing her knees further apart before Musichetta has time to miss his warmth and she wishes it wasn’t so dark so she could see what—

Musichetta gasps and Joly’s hands press down on her hips to keep her still his tongue slides deep between her legs. The trembling heat between her thighs begins to spread and Musichetta swears she can feel something purr deep inside her. Joly moves a little higher, searching for the weak spots that will make her breath stutter and her legs spread wider in anticipation. She nearly keens when he finds one.

“ _Slower_ ,” she breathes eagerly. “Slower…”

She can’t even be sure if Joly complies, because the next moment she’s tensing her legs frantically to keep still and the dark is wrapping around her in a muffled wave of pleasure. Joly braces his elbows against the mattress, preventing her from closing her legs too far and does something with his tongue that makes Musichetta’s eyes squeeze shut and her mouth open wide.

Joly makes a pleased sound and keeps going and Musichetta loses all track of time.

One arm is flung up and partly covering her face, not because she has cries to stifle, but because it somehow ended up there and she lacks the presence of mind to move it. Her other hand is grabbing onto the duvet beside her.

Suddenly a hand closes around hers, and in the distraction of Bossuet disentangling her fingers from around the bedding one of Joly’s movements takes her by surprise. A shudder goes through her body and a helpless sound spills from her lips.

Joly hums and Bossuet mutters something drowsy and adoring. He still moves like he’s half-asleep and makes no effort to actually join in, but he won’t let go of her hand and Musichetta can feel his lips pressed against her knuckles. Every time Joly rolls his tongue she squeezes Bossuet’s hand helplessly and she can feel him smile against her fingers.

Her tensed legs are trembling now and she knows Joly won’t keep this slow pace. She can barely think and she’s still waiting for him to—

Musichetta lets out a poorly choked back whine and Joly holds her down. It feels as if his hands are pushing directly against the shaking in her body and she keens softly as he speeds up, pushing her towards the edge. If she really tried she could hold out longer, but Joly’s tongue is circling mercilessly and Bossuet is lazily kissing her hand at the edge of her consciousness and Musichetta is beyond fighting.

All the breath locks in her chest and for a moment everything goes completely silent. Every single feeling flooding her body is caught in the dark and the stillness and Musichetta is aware of nothing except Joly between her legs, Bossuet beside her and the heat flaring up inside of her blissfully drowning out every other sensation.

A single drawn out gasp escapes her mouth before she goes limp and Bossuet chuckles in her ear, suddenly closer than before.

“ _Oh_ —” she pants. “Joly—”

Joly moves, probably sitting up and there’s a joyful – if a little smug – sound in his quickened breathing, that makes a burst of eagerness and affection burn through the fuzziness in Musichetta’s mind. She knows very well that at this point Joly would happily let her breathe her way down from her high while he takes care of himself. They _both_ know she’s utterly incapable of that though.

“Joly,” she pants. “Get up here.”

There’s a single moment of fumbling silence while Joly gets rid of his boxers and then he’s warm on top of her, weight pressing down on her and guiding himself inside her with so smooth a movement that Musichetta lets out a groan of satisfaction. She draws up her legs a little further and Joly sinks deeper inside her, falling into a steady pace immediately, forcing their bodies as well as both their ragged breathing into the same rhythm.

“Mm, _beautiful_ ,” Bossuet sighs and Musichetta can feel his breath on her cheek.

“Chetta,” Joly says, voice just a touch strained and all the better for it. “Kiss Boss for me, I can’t reach him right now.”

Musichetta laughs through the moan filling her throat in response to a sudden thrust and turns her head to catch Bossuet’s lips with her own. Once again she’s met with a kiss that is nowhere near sleepy.

Bossuet’s hand finds the back of her neck at the same time as Joly braces his legs and Musichetta moans into Bossuet’s mouth, arching her back for more.

Sleep is overrated anyway.

Very overrated.

**Author's Note:**

> ...will I /ever/ get used to posting smut?? Apparantly not.
> 
> PS. A big thanks to Deb and Amanda for their help at various stages <3


End file.
